Category: Play

“The Parisian Woman” was strange, funny, yet thrilling. Some of the plot twists were so surreal that they felt inconceivable. Then again, many current events that took place had once been considered unimaginable, too.

The play was set in contemporary Washington DC (after the 2016 US election) and centered around five characters with political connections.

On the surface, the political dance and Trump-bashing were sharp and funny, coming from both the Democrat and Republican characters in the story.

But, the plot quickly dived deep into the human psychic and relations: lies, adulteries, distortions, revenge, loyalty, trust, political favors, open relationships, and the role of women in the “older generation.”

The narrative was super clear, and dialogues well written. We knew exactly who/where/what each character stood. What we couldn’t see, however, was the hidden psychological warfare. Who’s crossing, double-crossing, triple-crossing whom? Who loves whom… pretends to love whom… loves but pretends not to love whom?

The main plot twist was thrilling. So thrilling that I actually liked it. The revelation was so surreal that it felt inconceivable. Then again, many events taking in DC today had once been considered unimaginable. In the current political climate, perhaps the turn of events could happen after all.

I thought several subplots were quite clever…

Chloe and Tom’s marriage and their “trust” in each other. Trust in quotation because I think it actually exceeds that of a normal marriage.

The portray of complex, conning, and malicious actions that people would take to achieve their ambitions.

Yet, one question remained, and I personally felt it significantly weakened the play… What is Chloe’s motive in all this?

She offered two answers: “Women in my (older) generation didn’t have a (professional) career.” and “I am a lost soul.” The former sadly reminded me of my mother’s generation. The latter felt like an excuse coming out of a teenager but not someone of her experience. In any case, neither felt satisfying or justifying.

“Indecent” has been extended through August 6th. The show is not a laid-back evening on Broadway, but definitely worth seeing if you want to understand the artist inside of you (or your artist friends).

On the surface, “Indecent” is a play about a play. More specifically, it’s a play about the artists who risked their lives to put on Sholem Asch’s play, “God of Vengeance.” But the plot goes deeper. It’s as much about the artists putting on a play, as it’s about us experiencing what it means to be an artist.

When its adoption headed to Apollo Theater in 1923, “God of Vengeance” presented the first same-sex kiss on stage in Broadway history, which eventually led to the arrest of its entire cast on charges of obscenity. Outside of Broadway, artists struggled but strived to put on the show for little or no pay. Seven days a week, Jewish artists in Nazi Germany rehearsed and put on the play, until they turned to ashes.

As the Holocaust unfolded, Sholem Asch became unnerved and overwhelmed. He eventually gave up on his art. To him, drama had become a petty concern that, at times of conflicts, could not save the six million Jews. Yet, despite atrocities all around them, many continued to believe in what his work represented: the imperfect but real person in each of us.

The imperfection shows up in multiple layers. “God of Vengeance” is the conflict of a Jewish brothel owner imposing religious norms on his own daughter. “Indecent” is about artists who work to expose the imperfect culture while being exterminated for it.

Furthermore, we repeatedly saw two scenes from “God of Vengeance”: “Final scene” from all four angles of the stage. “Rain scene” in reading, during rehearsals, from backstage, on stage, and at the end as water poured down onto Rifkele and Manke. The repetition transformed us, from audience members watching a play once, to the role of the artists producing the play night after night.

In doing so, we were exposed to one more imperfect but real experience: What does it mean to be artist? What makes an artist want something so much, to struggle but still practice it day after day, night after night? Do you know the feeling?

Broadway’s first lesbian kiss was originally in Yiddish. Now it’s in New Haven.